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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23891371">"Band-aids and Scar Tissue"</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsKohakuSato/pseuds/MrsKohakuSato'>MrsKohakuSato</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Allura (Voltron)-centric, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Generational Abuse, Lotor (Voltron)-centric, Non-Linear Narrative, Other, Parental Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Unreliable Narrator</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:09:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,204</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23891371</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsKohakuSato/pseuds/MrsKohakuSato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Excerpt, </p><p>[Lotor]</p><p>In the back of his mind, there was an inkling, something in him that screamed-what was the screaming about-its too murky, too quiet, too discombobulated to understand. It whispers, ringing hollow in his ears. In his youth, it was easy enough to dismiss, but it clung to him like an unwanted blemish.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Allura/Lotor (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "Prologue"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>We're about to get hurted up in here folks! So, be warned this a straight-up Dark-Fic that deals with the topic of Generational Abuse.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>[Lotor]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>In the back of his mind, there was an inkling, something in him that screamed-what was the screaming about-its too murky, too quiet, too discombobulated to understand. It whispers, ringing hollow in his ears. In his youth, it was easy enough to dismiss, but it clung to him like an unwanted blemish.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But much like his youth the memories that followed were scattered and disorganized, he can't exactly pinpoint where a sequence of events started and ended let alone remember which came first. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yet, certain things remained a constant in his life such as Dayak's imposing figure, the oppressive atmosphere of his father's throne room, his cold, intrusive eyes. The wallowing solitude, the scent of burnt ginger that always lingered in his mother's personal library.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His mother herself.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>= </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>[Allura]</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The harshest lesson Allura ever received was being told that she was different. When she was just shy of eleven her Grandmother pulled her aside-she was playing the children of the castle servants just before-the girl likened the former Queen’s grip to that of iron lock, her manicured fingernails bit into the flesh of her arm quite painfully. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Grandmother, you’re hurting me” her protest went ignored. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Enough of this childish whining.” she twisted her limb and spun her around to face her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hush.” she didn’t need to raise her voice to get her point across, instinctively Allura snapped her mouth shut, even though deep down she wanted to rebel against her “you will listen, child, and listen well. You will not be playing those children any longer.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What!?” only then did she try to squirm out of her grip “They’re my friends! I want to play with them!” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They are your subjects. Not your friends, and you will do well to remember your place as they do theirs. You are not a child any longer, you are a Princess and heir to the throne. Just because your father remains permissive about your training doesn’t mean I will. This nonsense stops as of today.” Allura wanted to do anything, scream, cry, throw a tantrum, but the lethal thining of her grandmother’s eyes held her in her place. Nothing ever good came out of defying the former monarch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You are nothing like them, your blood is the blood of kings and queens from centuries past, you were born to be great and do great things, I will not have you be anything less"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"What if I don't want to be great?" </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You don't have a choice, you cannot deny your destiny and that destiny is to sit upon the throne one day and lead our people." Finally, she let go and fixed her dress that she had wrinkled. Allura didn't look at her, instead kept her eyes on her shoes doing her best to hold back the tears she dearly wanted to cry.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She just wanted to play with her friends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This wasn't fair. But, what could she do? If this is what growing up meant then she didn't want to grow up at all. What did her blood matter? It was as red and rich as everyone else, she cried and got happy and angry just like everyone, too. Why does having royal blood make her any different from her friends? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The only thing that made her stick out was her hair-only those from the Royal family and its other seventeen branches can or could adorn the color. But, that still didn't make her feel better. The desire to argue against her grandmother was there, but she feared the consequences far more. No matter what she said, the former queen would never hear of it, and all she would receive is a smack of her whip. The thought of it alone nearly made her flinch, so she watched on silently while her friends no longer sought her out and all she could do was watch them from the windows, laughing and playing out in the green fields.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was definitely a lesson earned hard.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "Mother"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Excerpt,</p>
<p>[Allura]</p>
<p>Aurora. It was a name that stuck with her all her childhood, Aurora, that was the name of her mother. Or at least that's what she had been told, yet she found it odd that a title never followed her name.</p>
<p>It wasn't Queen Aurora, or Princess Aurora, or Lady Aurora. </p>
<p>Just Aurora.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Life's not easy being young, especially when your family's a dysfunctional mess.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>
  <span>[Allura]</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Aurora. It was a name that stuck with her all her childhood, Aurora, that was the name of her mother. Or at least that's what she had been told, yet she found it odd that a title never followed her name.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It wasn't Queen Aurora, or Princess Aurora, or Lady Aurora. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Just Aurora.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Her cause of death was complications following childbirth. But, nothing else was mentioned. Her father seldom spoke of her and he never referred to her by her name, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aurora</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was simply 'your mother' and that was it. For the longest time, she believed that he only did that because speaking her name was far too painful for him. There was always an oppressive sadness that washed over him if she asked about her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Can I at least have a picture of her?" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm afraid there aren't any" That struck her as odd; she was royalty, after all, there should be some pictures or paintings of her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Why not?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Your mother" </span>
  <em>
    <span>that again, but she kept such observations to herself</span>
  </em>
  <span> "wasn't very fond of pictures. She hated them and she hated standing for paintings even more" </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Allura could understand; she also hated posing for paintings. They went on for hours and hours...and hours, it didn't help that the royal painter snapped at her if she so much breathed the wrong way.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Afterwards, she was always horribly stiff.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But, still you have to have something right?" Her fingers dug into the arm of her father's chair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"No, I don't. I'm sorry-" a loud knock interrupted them "Yes?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"My Lord-" Commander Melenor entered the room, armor clinking and face grim "it's very urgent. You are needed in the Council Room. "</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Alfor cracked his knuckles before standing "Very well"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"But, father-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Another time, Allura" he tried to pat her head, but she moved away feeling patronized. She hears him sigh before leaving the room. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Princess-" Commander Melenor's usual stern tone softens "please do not be so hard on your father; he only means well-" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Means well!?" She shot up "what part of lying to me about my own mother "means well"!" </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older woman falls silent for a moment "Some things are best left in the past, Princess, you'll come to understand that one day." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Yeah, whatever" she stormed out her father's study before Melenor could stop her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>=</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his words, Allura still looked. And looked and looked, but she reaped nothing. No pictures, no paintings. Funny enough, the name </span>
  <em>
    <span>Aurora </span>
  </em>
  <span>never showed up in the Royal Archives or the Family Registry. Not even a reference. After days of ceaseless research Allura wallowed in her own bitterness, the soured after taste of defeat.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>However, just as she began to lose hope, something caught her eye, there was a name in the Family Registry that was scratched out, completely blackened, but the paper was far too damaged to make out the name. Not even under a light, the name, whoever it was, was blotched out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>=</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Allura kept her discovery to herself, but that didn't stop her from asking-In beginning she tried to inquire the servants about what her mother was like, but they'd clam up so hard that she feared their skin might turn purple.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Figures.</span>
  </em>
  <span> If the servants were silenced to secrecy, there wasn't much she could pry out of them. Nanny was also silent on the matter completely and usually shooed her off if she got too incessant. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The other branches of the royal family were far too risky, they'd just tell father if she gave them any reason she was snooping where she shouldn't.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Which only left her one choice-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"What was my mother like?" She was in her study when the question suddenly struck her, Coran grimaced lightly, however, he tried to quickly cover his misstep which made her all the more suspicious.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Your mother, um, well she- shouldn't you be reading, Princess?" Allura just about had it with all the secrecy, the urge to overturn the table; books and all was growing harder and harder to ignore. If throwing a tantrum got her what she wanted, then very thin ice was being crossed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I've read this passage 4 times already!" she muttered, "why can't you just answer my question, it can't be that hard?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The older man tugged at his collar "I-Well, you know I hardly knew the woman-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Slamming the hard-cover of her history book, Allura rose in her chair to glare in Coran's direction "I don't believe that. You're lying!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Princes-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"She was MY mother! Do I not have the right to know at least something about her!?" Allura was almost outstanded by her belligerence-deep down she knew she was being petulant and unreasonable, but the words ran out her mouth long before she could think to reign herself in.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I-" Coran falters, he seemed lost on what to say, Allura didn't understand what all the hush was about and she honestly didn't understand Coran's reluctance to tell her the truth. He never sugarcoated his words, no matter how unpleasant they were.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Can't you just tell me the truth?"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"That's a matter you'll have to take up with Alfor. It's not my place to speak." </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I did!" She spat beyond exasperated "he won't say anything!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Then I assume the matters closed"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Coran!"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry, Princess, but my lips are sealed." he motioned the zipping of his lips with his hand. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Fine." It was all she can muster.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>=</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>[Lotor]</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>    He did not remember why he had come to his mother's room, what he did recall was wanting to show her something which was entirely forgotten once the squeal of the hinges alerted her to his presence. He took a step in "mother?" even to his young mind, his small voice sounded so unsure and crumbling. His foot ended up nudging something across the floor. It was a bottle, more specifically a wine bottle that rolled and rattled as it slid over the marble tile.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He found his mother draped across her vanity, her bed was unmade, her dresser was in a state of disarray; some drawers were yanked open. Others were closed. Silk clothes spilled over the edges or were thrown onto the floor. It was dark and Lotor did not dare flick on the light; mainly because he did not have the courage to do so. Partly because he did not want to, fearing what the darkness hid.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Mother?" A groan followed by a hiss and the creak of her vanity chair. Underneath the sheen of her white hair, he saw her eyes. A wave of dread coursed through him causing him to stumble away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"How many times have I told you-" his mother floundered before she stood with her one hand planted on the table of her vanity "about coming in here uninvited….." he heaved, her breath uneven.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm...sorry-"</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Sorry? SORRY! I dearly grow weary of repeating myself! You just don't listen do you!?" His mother was quick, he forgot sometimes that she was or is-he wasn't entirely sure-a highly-trained warrior besides an alchemist. Despite it, he was prepared for the pain that imploded upon the top of his head, white light flashed between his eyes, but he did not shed a single tear.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>His whole body vibrated, shaken to the bone as the force of his mother's weight sent him sailing into the floor. The warmth of blood-he could smell it before he felt it oozing from his scalp ,between his eyes, and over his lips. Everything spun its axis, his mother was a blur of white and dark purple.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Lotor struggled in the dark until his vision re-centered, and his mother came back clear as crystal with her eyes wild and unapproachable, her fingers straining against the broken handle of the wine bottle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to speak, but his words failed him.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"Lo-tor?" The handle in her hand crashed to the floor, a thousand pieces scuttled across the marble "Lotor!?" His mother scrambled to his side "what did I-" she didn't finish, as she grabbed his face to inspect his wound before scooping him in her arms and carried him to the bathroom.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She wouldn't look at him as she cleaned his injury, her hands shook, but Lotor didn't comment on it. He simply kept still as she picked the glass and cleaned his hair in warm water. Time either stood still or flew by-he wasn't sure, there were no clocks in the massive bathroom to tell him whether it was early morning or the dawn of night. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When she finished she clutched him to his chest and applied her healing alchemy,  funneling the cool magic to his head. The pressure that built there decreased and he sighed in her breast without meaning to. She only held him tighter, with her lips on his hair.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Lotor had no idea who she was talking to once she was like this. To him, to her, to something else-he wasn't about to ask as she curled into her. It was through these quiet, painful moments that his mother allowed him to be this close, he wasn't about to squander it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Pain or no pain, at least she was holding him.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>THANKS FOR READING!!!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>THANKS FOR READING!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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